Hybrid
by VSSAKJ
Summary: -DISCONTINUED- A small collection of crossover drabbles. Currently features Yuugiou, Tales of Symphonia, Baten Kaitos, Advent Children and Loveless. Vague spoilers rampant.
1. Perception

_(A/N: One of several crossovers written from random prompts. Features Yami no Bakura (Yuugiou) and Kratos Aurion (Tales of Symphonia); the prompt was ' Take my hand, live while you can; don't you feel that dreams are right in the palm of your hand?')_

Two immortals. 

They are radically different, appearance, motivation and history-wise. On one hand, a fiercely independent, self-directed individual, white-haired and pale, his family murdered and the man he marked as responsible being the only reason he stayed alive – for revenge. Born of desert sands and reborn of dark magics, he would never die.

On the other, a man who chose to mind the way of one whose path became dark, auburn-haired and with wings of light blue, despairing in the knowledge that his family was dead and the creature responsible was the sole reason he was allowed to continue living.

Upon meeting, they despised one another.

Yami no Bakura saw a broken wreck of a man who clung to life only because he was too afraid to die – and yet valued nothing in that life he refused to relinquish.

Kratos Aurion saw a cold, revenge-obsessed maniac with no principles and no sense of justice, only a single motivation to keep going – and that motivation was a poor excuse to treat other beings the way he did.

But something made them stay – stay and argue, discuss, disagree. … And talk. It was a reluctant Kratos who opened that channel, after yelling something about there being no shame in living for the lives of those who should not have died before you.

Bakura had asked if he meant that literally, as in right before your own eyes. His words had been sharp, bitter; Kratos had seen the tightness in his lips.

They talked for a long time. Long enough for both their throats to start to rasp for the dryness. Long enough that words became just extensions and extras if you will – just add ons to the sidelong looks and the smallest nods and the slightest twitch of a hand. Long enough that they knew how to read one another.

And they found they were not so different as they had originally thought.


	2. Wine in Silver Cups

_(A/N: Shortest fic ever. Features Skeed (Baten Kaitos) and Yazoo (Advent Children).)_

There were maybe ten, maybe fifteen feet between them. Both stood with one foot forward, one arm extended – one finger curled around a trigger. Two sets of eyes glittered with malice, coldness; brown refused to break contact with green (or green refused to break contact with brown?).

One shifted his foot. There was a click.

Wind whistled.

Bang.

Two shots fired. Neither man fell.

Skeed chuckled. "You're a good shot." Drip.

Yazoo smirked. "You missed." 


	3. Antitoxion

_(A/N: One of several crossovers written from random prompts. Features Kratos Aurion (Tales of Symphonia) and Lyude (Baten Kaitos); the prompt was '1, 2, 3, 4 – tell me that you love me more.')_

"Your wings… please, Kratos, I want to see them again." Lyude took his hand gently, something he knew Kratos didn't very much like but couldn't help himself from doing. He wanted to convey the desperation he felt; if Kratos had done as much wrong as he'd said, if he had so much to regret… why were they so beautiful? Lyude didn't think he'd ever understand. 

Kratos shifted slightly, uncomfortable. Attention with this much awe…

Lyude wheedled, "_Please_. I… mine aren't…" He faded off, looking away unhappily. They'd had this discussion before, but it always went the same way.

"Lyude." Kratos said gently, his gaze understanding, "There is nothing wrong with them."

"They're awful. They're black and disgusting." Lyude spit out bitterly, turning his back to Kratos and wrapping his arms around himself, "And I'm not allowed." _I should just… get rid of them. Entirely._

Kratos hesitated a moment, making to place his hand on Lyude's shoulder before sighing softly and allowing his wings to come forth. The blue glowed faintly in the surrounding semi-darkness; the sun had sunk considerably since they'd gone out, and twilight was rapidly diminishing into night.

Lyude smiled in the light (he looked so much happier, as if his soul ached less), and made as though to touch one.

"No, Lyude." Kratos moved back a step, the words scolding but not unkind, "They are not like yours. You cannot touch them. You _know_."

Lyude withdrew his hand as if it'd been burnt, looking guilty. "Sorry." He was quiet for a moment, his expression pensive as he gazed at the wings, then suddenly he burst out, "Do you really have to leave?"

Kratos considered saying a number of things (many of which he knew he'd never be able to properly explain, many of which he'd already tried to impress upon Lyude as being important) and settled on something simple, "Yes. I do."

"You're…" Lyude shook his head and looked down, unable to understand. Everyone in his life who mattered went away. He should be used to it, shouldn't he?

It was not particularly characteristic of him, but seeing Lyude look that way (and knowing, _knowing_ how discouraged he felt), Kratos was moved. He laid a hand gently on Lyude's cheek, speaking seriously, "I cannot do any more than this." _I cannot love you any better._


	4. Little Brothers

_(A/N: One of several crossovers written from random prompts. Features Skeed (Baten Kaitos) and Ritsuka (Loveless); the prompt was 'The sun is in your eyes, the sun is in your ears; I hope you see the sun, someday in the darkness.')_

Ritsuka was seated atop a very solid block of concrete, swinging his legs idly back and forth. It was starting to get cold and the landscape around them was barren, but the sky was beautiful. Yellow into orange into a deep, dark red, with streaks of pink and the barest tones of blue – it was like no sunset he'd ever seen before. He sighed a little, wondering why such a cruel race of people had been allowed it; he shifted his hands as much as he could with his tiny wrists cuffed together. They hurt, like his ankles, unused to the metal restriction.

He turned his gaze to the man standing near him, asking quietly, "What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing." Was the sharp reply, the man keeping his back to Ritsuka.

"Then why are we here?" Ritsuka asked more intently, and when he received no response, he went on, "Why are you staying here? You were in charge of the rest of them, right?"

"If you persist in asking stupid questions, I am going to shoot you."

Ritsuka was sharply shocked to silence.

Skeed shot him a glare and sighed. "They have gone to find out what we are going to do with you."

Being given an answer made Ritsuka feel braver, "Where's Soubi?"

"What?"

"Soubi." Ritsuka repeated, not expanding.

"I don't know what that is." Skeed muttered, sounding somewhat disgusted, displeased; his gaze was distracted.

"He." Ritsuka corrected, drawing his knees up so he could lean a little against them. The position was precarious, on top of the block, but not impossible to maintain. He sighed again, murmuring to himself "Never here…"

"He may have been injured. He may have died." Skeed pronounced this coolly, cocking his gun.

Ritsuka blinked and looked towards him, asking softly, "Why are you –"

Skeed had turned and pressed the barrel of the gun to his throat; Ritsuka didn't dare speak. His tone still frigid and uninterested, Skeed asked, "Are you a younger brother?"

"… Why?"

"You're as bloody stupid as one." Skeed spit the words out, his tone revolted, "Common trash."

Ritsuka bristled slightly. "I'm not stupid."

Skeed pressed harder against his throat with the gun. "You're arguing with someone who can and will kill you."

"... Why are you like this?"

Skeed struck him hard across the face with his gun, hard enough to send Ritsuka sprawled backwards across the block. He then reached forward and yanked Ritsuka off the block by his hair, letting him drop to the ground and kicking him in the side when he didn't rise.

Ritsuka received no answer to his question as real darkness enveloped him. 


	5. Being

_(A/N: One of several crossovers written from random prompts. Features Yazoo (Advent Children) and Kratos Aurion (Tales of Symphonia); the prompt was 'I tried to murder the lonely, contemplate our mortality. Into infinity, frozen memory; wipe the tears from yesterday, a time for change, take the pain away. Angel, my destiny – can you feel me?')_

The being had appeared, quite literally, out of no where; it had been a shock. Yazoo stood stock still, his gun pointed unwaveringly at it. "Don't move." 

The being didn't, though his back was to Yazoo and that would undoubtedly make anyone uncomfortable. He pronounced his words clearly, "I have no intention of harming you."

Yazoo's gun clicked into readiness. "Who are you?"

"My name is Kratos."

That response did not meet with Yazoo's satisfaction. "What are you?"

"A mercenary."

Yazoo had been stalking forward and now stood directly in front of Kratos, his eyes glittering; his words were accusing, "You _appeared_."

"Yes, I did."

"Where did you come from?"

"Very far away."

Yazoo snapped, impatient, "_Where_?"

"A place called Derris-Kharlan." Kratos's words remained calm, quiet, deep and clear. He answered only exactly what Yazoo asked for a reason; offering any more detail may press him to lie in excess and he had no desire to do so.

The answer seemed to mollify Yazoo somewhat, or at least suit him well enough that he moved on; he looked Kratos over once again and then commanded, "Remove the sword."

"I do not intend to harm you." Kratos repeated steadily, making no move to comply.

"Take it off." Yazoo repeated severely, "Only my brothers may wear swords around me."

Kratos gave him a very serious look and slowly undid his sword belt, allowing it to fall to the damp ground with a muffled thump. Yazoo stepped forward and kicked it away from him, then closed a pale hand around his shoulder and squeezed it – _hard_. Kratos's expression flickered slightly, indicating pain, but to his credit he resisted wincing outright and did not pull backwards.

Yazoo smirked. "So you do exist."

"… Yes."

"And you do not come from a greater mind. You simply are, as you are, this." Yazoo's hand trailed down his side, barely grazing it but encompassing his entire body in the way it moved.

Kratos was nonplussed, but responded evenly, "Yes."

"Do you know what I am?"

"I do not." Though, Kratos realised with a start, he did look rather like Lord Yggdrasill. The long hair, mostly, and the eyes. This man's eyes were unnerving.

"I am a shard. A piece. I am less." Yazoo stepped in closer to him, very nearly pressing their bodies together; there was no heat to it, only intensity and deliberate intimidation. "I am incomplete."

"Will you die?" Kratos asked faintly, his gaze only composed and intentional; Yazoo's met it but had an entirely different feel (underlying rage-annoyance-nothingness; something indescribable).

In fact, the question shocked him. It took a moment before Yazoo could formulate a response he felt was appropriate, "I will cease."

Kratos smiled dimly, some scorn in the look but all of it directed at himself, "Then, one day, you will be whole."


End file.
